Graveyard Dirt: Two Worlds and In-between

The Fuck(ed) Shop

It's true; I've been fucked at the fuck shop. I'm so fucking talented at being fucked that I've been granted two extra fucks this holiday season: body-fucked and Christmas-fucked. (<- I can only assume that the Universe thought my personal rendition of being time-fucked was so spectacularly good it demanded multiple encores.) So, if your ass has been wondering where my ass has been; it's been getting fucked...repeatedly.

And as much as I'd love to share the sordid tales of metaphorical fuckery, I'm still currently involved in an extended time-fucking session. What I can share, though, is a gem of an ancient Greek Fuck Shop saga: my time-fucked, body-fucked and Christmas-fucked self is returning to the exact point-of-motherfucking-origin of my first fucked-fucking tomorrow: Edinburgh

(Good one, Universe. I so did not see that shit coming at-fucking-all.)

Mushroom giveaway? Still the fuck on. Holy Supper challenge (and giveaway)? Still the fuck on. Right now I need to chase up some museum tickets, pack for our one night getaway, bake a mucho belated Christmas cake, prepare gluten-free food to travel with and sort Peck-Man out for the next 48 hours. When we return from the "Athens of the North" I'll be sure to explain how I went from cervix-banging hotel sex to nearly getting my ass hospitalized in just a few Fuck(ed) Shop weeks.